Son of None
by GarnetVengeance
Summary: She'd never planned for this to happen - and most certainly not with an Assassin. And now she was tied to him - but when a previous involvement from another life reappears, what will it mean for this new life she's made? Alt/Mar -Spoilers for ACII-
1. Prologue

I suppose the only thing I have to say on this one is: Spoilers! Fear them. For....well, I suppose, the first time you pop back to Desmond in ACII. And Bloodlines.

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Son of None  
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She teetered dangerously for a moment, her breath catching in her throat, before she managed to regain her balance. She clutched the side of the building in a death-grip, trying desperately to peer around the city without falling to her death.

She caught sight of something – could that be it? She certainly hoped so, because she _was not_ climbing up here again.

----

"What are you doing in here, Templar scum?!"

"Oh, be silent. If I wanted to destroy you or this place, assassin, I would have done so already." She snapped.

"How did you find this place?" He demanded, his hand on his knife.

"The same way you do, I imagine. I found a high building and looked around." She shrugged. "As for why I'm here, I need you to send a message for me."

"And why would I do anything for you?"

"Because I'm sure your head on a pike would send the message just as well." Honestly, these assassins…

He paused, considering. "What is this… message?"

She relaxed slightly. Finally, she was getting somewhere. "I need you to send it to Altair. You can do that, can't you?"

"Altair?! Why would you want to –"

"_That_ is none of your concern." She snapped. "Just tell him I need to see him. It's urgent."

He looked her over. "I can't promise he will, since it's probably a templar trap."

She barely contained rolling her eyes. "If it was a templar trap, you certainly wouldn't know it. And he will."

He snorted, obviously not believing her. "And who, might I ask, is it from?"

"Maria. Tell him it's from Maria."

The days passed. She waited, anxiously, wishing she had had the forethought to make sure he'd had some way to contact her once he had Altair's answer. She had no doubt he'd come, she just wish she knew _when_…

And finally, it came. A dove, waiting patiently at her window, a note tied around its delicate leg. With trembling fingers, she unrolled the note.

He was here. In the city.

Turning, she grabbed her cloak, trying not to look suspicious as she practically ran out of the castle.

---

"Here she is." The _rafiq_ commented as she dropped into the bureau. "Are you sure this isn't a trap, Altair?" He commented quietly to the hooded man beside him.

Altair chuckled. "I'm sure."

"So you actually came, Assassin." Maria commented brusquely. "I was beginning to wonder."

"You'll have to forgive my lateness. I was working." He replied with a smirk. "You needed to see me?"

She took a sharp intake of breath, her eyes flickering to the other man in the room. Altair raised his eyebrow. He couldn't imagine why she would want to see him, much less alone (he can't imagine her going to all this trouble for _that_, anyways), but he trusted her enough for this. He turned to the other man. "Leave us."

"But, Altair, she's a Templar-" He protested.

"It's all right. She won't try anything." Altair replied, shrugging.

The other man hesitated, but eventually yielded, giving Maria his best glare before brushing past her.

The two waited in silence a moment; until they were both sure the _rafiq_ wasn't still hanging around, eavesdropping. A few moments more passed until Altair finally decided to break the silence.

"You'll have to forgive him. He's still young."

"And very fond of you, it seems."

A small smile tugged at his lips, "They just look up to me, that's all."

"Ah, yes, the greatest Assassin in the brotherhood, hero of the creed, right?" She sneered.

He chuckled. She was still a little hellcat. He crossed the room, pulling her close. "So." He prompted lowly, "What did you need to see me for?"

She lowered her eyes guiltily, pulling away from the assassin and turning her back to him.

"Maria?" He frowned, slightly worried, "What is it?"

She hesitated, "Isn't it sad? Here I am, a knight, who's faced villains of every kind, acting like a pathetic ninny over… over…."

"Maria." He said firmly, grasping her shoulder and pulling her around to face him. "What is it?

"I'm…I'm…"

Altair, now definitely worried – what was happening, the Templar's were planning a full-scale attack of Masyaf? – noted that she had never looked so small, so fragile. Whatever it was, it must be something horrible to reduce the normally fiery and proud woman to this.

"I'm pregnant."


	2. Chapter 1

Holy hell, look at me go. I don't think I've ever done two chapters in one day.

They're both really short though, so I'm not sure how much it counts.

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Chapter 1  
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"I'm pregnant."

Altair froze, positive that he'd misheard her. Pregnant? Impossible.

He'd always been careful – well, there was that one literal roll in the hay, but for her to be _pregnant_?

He was going to be a…father? He didn't know how to be a father. He'd never really had one himself – unless on counted Al Mualim, and everyone knew how _that_ turned out.

Vaguely, over the blood pounding in his ears, Altair became aware that she was still talking.

"…And the Templars are already suspicious after that debacle in Cyprus, so if they were to find out I was pregnant…" She trailed off, looking uncomfortable. "I wanted to know what you thought I should do. You are the expert at evading Templars, after all." She added dryly.

There was an awkward pause, when he realized she wanted him to say something.

"You must come to Masyaf. As soon as possible." He said, relieved that he sounded more confident than he felt.

"Masyaf?" She frowned. "That's a little closer to the Templar center of power than I would like…"

"You said it yourself: the Templar's are already suspicious of you. Masyaf is the safest place in the world for you."

"Yes, but…" She shuffled, avoiding his eyes, "Would you…want me there?"

"Maria." He said, a smile playing across his lips, "It takes two to make a baby. This child," He placed his right hand against her stomach, ever so gently, "We'll raise it. Together." He said bluntly. "My love," (She couldn't help but inwardly gasp at this; Altair _never_ used endearments like that) "Come back to Masyaf with me. We can raise our son together."

"Or daughter." She breathed.

His mouth quirked. "Or daughter." He repeated.

"You…actually want this child?" She asked.

"Of course. Why in the world wouldn't I?"

"It's the child of a Templar." She lowered her eyes.

He chuckled again, lowly, "It's also the child of an assassin. Besides," He pulled her close again, tucking her head under his chin, "I stopped caring about your being a Templar years ago, so it doesn't count."

They stayed there for a moment, simply being together, before Maria gently pulled away. "Alright." She said softly. "I'll go with you."

"Then go. Gather whatever you need. We'll leave tomorrow." He kissed her gently on the forehead, like had that night months ago when all this had began. "I will come and fetch you."

"You do remember I live in a Templar fortress, don't you?" She said snidely, baiting him.

"That's never stopped me before." He led her over to the entrance, offering her a leg up.

"Oh, right, now that I'm bearing your child you're going to be the perfect gentleman, are you?" She smirked, but accepted anyways.

"I just know you're a terrible climber."

"And you're a terrible liar."

---

She folded the last of her clothes – though why she bothered at all, who knows how long these would fit? Damn assassin. – And placed it gently into her satchel.

She was all packed.

Ready to elope.

With the assassin.

Who killed Robert.

She sighed. What a mess her life had become. And yet, somehow, she didn't regret it. Getting involved with the assassin… She sat down on her bed – she still held enough influence for a private room at least.

He'd changed so much since their first meeting. Once a brash assassin, blindly following his master's orders, now a master, practically the leader of his entire order. Even ignoring that, during the events on Cyprus… his making her see the Templar's true purpose, not to mention the numerous times he'd saved her life from messes she'd jumped into… well, it would be a wonder if she _didn't_ fall in love with him – though she'd never admit it to him.

She'd been scared of that fact, she'd admit. How deeply she'd fallen – he'd killed Robert, after all, how could she possibly love that murderer? That was why she'd run back to the Templars in Acre, proclaiming that she'd change them from within. She snorted derisively. Even then, she'd known it wouldn't work. She just wanted away from the assassin.

Not that it had done any good. He'd always sneak in somehow, whether it be through her window or following her up to the tower…

Her eyes flickered to her window. He'd probably be coming in through there – she should unlock it. Not that it would stop him if it was. Still, she could make his job a little easier.

She flipped the lock, when she heard the door open.

"Well, that's unlike you, actually coming through the door." She smirked, without turning around.

"What else would I come through?"

She froze. That wasn't Altair's voice. That was –

"Stephen. What the bloody hell are you doing here?" And especially _now_, the blood prick. He just grinned, standing in her doorway like he owned the place.

"Now, now. Is it such a crime for a man to visit his wife?"


	3. Chapter 2

Does it count as three chapters in one day if I haven't slept between now and when I started?

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Chapter 2  
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Altair crept silently along the wall, practiced fingers finding handholds he'd long ago memorized. Really, a _baby_… his mind still reeled.

Still, he must concentrate on the task at hand: getting his newly-revealed family to the safety of Masyaf.

Reaching Maria's window, he crept a hand over the windowsill, intending to open it and creep inside, when he heard voices.

Who was she speaking with – a man?

"…have no right to be here." He heard Maria practically snarl.

"I have every right to be here, Maria. Whatever made you think otherwise?" An Englishman. Altair shifted his handhold on the sill. He hoped this stranger would leave soon – Altair could stay perched there for a good amount of time, but not indefinitely.

"Do you mean the fact that we've never gotten along? Or how about that we haven't seen each other for half a dozen years? Or that you had me pronounced dead?" Altair frowned. Obviously these two had quite the relationship – who was he?

"My. Have you always held such ire towards me?" The stranger replied smoothly. "I do like to think we got along well in the beginning-"

"-Only because I was a foolish little romantic twit-"

"And _you_ were the one who ran off to the Holy Land." He paused. "Not only that, I didn't have you pronounced _dead_, just _missing_. I would have thought you'd be thankful; didn't it help your little guise of 'being a man' so you could join the Templars?" Another pause. "How did that go, by the way?"

"Get. Out." She growled.

"You're still so cold." The stranger sighed melodramatically, "I haven't even told you why I'm here."

"I don't care why you're here."

"Your father died, you know." He carried on.

"I know that, you bloody git. It was years ago." She snapped.

"And all your brothers have died out here in the Holy Land."

"Get on with it."

"That makes _you_, my dear, his eldest living heir." Silence reigned in the room for a few moments.

"What's your point?" She said softly, so much so Altair had to strain to hear, "You should be happy; doesn't that mean you inherit his estate?"

"Ah, well, not quite." The stranger clucked his tongue. "It's been my opinion for many years that it was your father who instilled this fool sense of adventure in you. And, considering his will specifically left his estate to _you_, not 'the eldest child', I believe it proves my point."

"I don't give a damn about the bloody estate. I'll write a letter, you can take it."

"If only, my dear, if only. It specifically stated that the estate can only be passed onto your own blood relative. Your children, in other words." There was a pause. "Oh, believe me; I fought it as best I could. But the will was quite clear on this."

"So what are you saying?"

"I'm saying, my dear, that I need you to come back and be my wife again."

Altair lost his grip for a moment, scrabbling to regain purchase.

"What was that?" The stranger demanded.

"It was probably just a bird." Maria snapped – blessed girl – "And you're positively _daft_ if you think I'll be going back with you."

"We'll see, my dear. After all, you haven't got much going for you around here, do you?"

Altair heard retreating footsteps, and a slamming door. He waited until the count of three before pulling himself up and opening the window – it was unlocked, he noticed thankfully – and slipping silently into the room.

"I thought it was you. Could you have made any more of a racket?" She snapped, whipping around to face the assassin.

He ignored her, flexing his hands with a hiss. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had to hang unmoving on a ledge for so long.

She raised a delicate eyebrow at his actions. "How long were you out there?"

"Long enough." He replied, "I didn't know you were married."

"It was another time." She replied brusquely, scowling.

"Hmm." He strode up to the smaller woman, looming over her like the predator she often forgot he was, placing a hand beside her head and leaning down. "Shall I kill him for you?" He whispered softly in her ear.

She repressed a grin. Slipping around him, she headed back to the bed, picking up her satchel. "Leave him. He's a bloody ninny anyways, there's not much he can do." She paused, "He only ever wanted me for my dowry, anyways. I'm amazed he chased me this far, though I can see why if my father's estate was on the line."

"It appears I went and got involved with more than I expected." He smirked. He was surprised that she was married – though in all honesty, he shouldn't be. She was a woman of marriageable age, and he'd known she had nobility in her blood from their first meeting. That she'd been involved in a political marriage was not surprising.

Though it did not change his decision; only strengthened it, in fact. That her husband was here to whisk her – and their child – off to England just gave him all the more reason to get her to Masyaf, where he could keep an eye on her.

"You should be thankful." She said, pulling him out of his thoughts. "Your son is in line for a sizable chunk of England, it seems."

"Or daughter."

She blinked, her features softening. "Or daughter." She repeated.

He grinned. Reaching over, he cupped her face in his hands, before leaning down to brush his lips against hers, once, twice, three times. "We should be going." He murmured against them.

"Mmm. I've been ready for some time; you're the one getting distracted."

He chuckled, unraveling the rope he'd brought from around his chest. "I hope you're still able to climb."

"Over your gentlemanly streak so soon, Assassin?" She smirked. "I haven't gotten so huge I can't handle climbing a simple rope."

"Then I will go first. To catch you, should you fall." He flashed a small smile, "Since you are a terrible climber."

A horse waited near the walls of the castle – "I'm perfectly capable of riding my own, you bloody assassin!" "But what if you should fall? Better you ride with me." - And within half an hour, both Templar and Assassin were riding at a brisk pace towards Masyaf, the Assassin stronghold.

"I wish I could see Stephen's face when he realizes I'm gone." Maria laughed. "I wish I'd thought to leave him a letter, just to rub it in."

Altair raised an eyebrow. "I never knew you had this vindictive streak, Maria." There was laughter in his voice. "I hope you aren't this way with all the men you get involved with."

"Please, Altair." She said, "There's no way a man like _him_ could keep me entertained for long. He's far too…pliable." She reached up, pulling him down to plant a lingering kiss on his scar, just on the corner of his mouth.

"Acre is out of sight. We could set up camp for the night." Altair breathed.

"That sounds like a lovely idea, assassin."

Gods, this woman could be a temptress when she wanted.


	4. Chapter 3

The sun set at 4:16 today. It was just depressing.

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Chapter 3  
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They'd been on the road for perhaps an hour when they began to be followed. Another two before Altair brought it up. Maria had replied there was no way it was Templars; they hadn't even been gone a day, so there was no way they would think she was gone, and there was no sign of a struggle so there was no reason for them to even begin to think that anything bad had happened. Not only that, but for them to not only know the direction she was going and being able to find them was incredibly unlikely. Add to that they were merely _trailing_ the pair, rather than capturing them – well, what reason could the Templars possibly have for that?

"They're probably just going in the same direction as us, that's all." She'd said with finality.

Altair had made a non-committal noise, and checked that all his weapons were loose in their sheaths.

Another hour passed before Altair finally took them off the main road, tucking them behind a pile of ruins.

"You're being foolish, Altair." Maria sighed, exasperated.

"If I am, they'll simply pass us by, no harm done." Altair replied simply. The sound of hoof beats grew closer. He shushed her with a finger to his lips, creeping along the crumbling wall that ran parallel to the road.

"…We've lost them!"

"They can't have gotten far."

Altair smirked in Maria's direction. He'd been right, after all. She rolled her eyes, before sliding off the horse, sword in hand. He eyes widened, and he shook his head, motioning for her to stay back. She snorted softly, and joined him near his hiding place. He looked at her pleadingly, but she simply scowled, her hand on the hilt of her sword.

"You check over there; I'll take this way."

"Right, right…."

Altair clung to the wall, listening to the footsteps grow nearer.

He flexed his hand, waiting for the soldier to pass behind the wall where he and Maria hid.

Nearer.

Nearer.

There – the soldier passed behind the wall. Altair's horse snorted, and the man began to turn, but it was too late. Grasping the man's head, Altair swiftly pulled him behind the wall, his hidden blade in the man's brain before he had time to blink.

Without pausing, Altair quickly vaulted over the wall, sprinting across the road to where the other man searched, his back turned. With practiced movements, Altair leapt, landing both feet on the man's back and forcing him to the ground, knocking the breath out of him. Before he had time to regain it, Altair's blade, still stained with the blood of his comrade, was at his throat.

"Who sent you?" Altair demanded, "And consider your answer well, for I've no qualms about leaving you on the side of the road for the carrion birds."

"I… I was just sent here by my captain! I don't know who ordered it!" The man protested, eyeing the blade fearfully.

"How did you find us?!" Altair pressed the wicked blade against the man's throat, drawing a trickle of blood.

"I was told you'd be on your way to Masyaf!" The man replied frantically, "And that'd you'd left yesterday, so it wasn't hard to think how far you'd gone. Please don't kill me, I –"

But the rest was lost in a gurgle, as blood flooded the man's throat.

"You really don't show any mercy, do you?" Maria commented, leading their horse back onto the road.

"Best not to leave a trail." He replied, hefting the body and throwing it haphazardly into the bushes lining the road. "You said you can ride, right?"

"Of course I can ride." She snapped, "I am a knight, you know."

"Then do so. I'll take one of their horses. I want to reach Masyaf as soon as possible and figure this out." He frowned as he caught the reins of one of the beasts, who shied, upset at the scent of blood. He couldn't think of anyone who would have known they were leaving, much less when and where…

"And Maria?" He said as he pulled himself up into the saddle, "Please, just stay back next time."

"How dare you!" She snarled, "I'm perfectly capable of holding my own in a fight, you damn assassin!"

"I know that." He sighed, "Better than most. But please," He trotted up next to her, "You're not just endangering yourself. A well-aimed punch to the gut, and…" He trailed off.

"Tch. Fine then." She pushed her horse ahead, "But your seed is causing me a great deal of trouble. Just like his father, I suppose."

"My apologies." He said with a smile, trotting his horse to be even with hers again. "Come. If we hurry we could reach Masyaf in another two days."


	5. Chapter 4

AUGH these chapters are so SHORT I hate it. But I don't want to determine where to cut them by length, so here we are....

But I promise we're building up to something big.

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Chapter 4  
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The days passed without incident, for a time. The assassins at Masyaf had been wary of Maria, at first – it was well known she was a Templar, and she did nothing to hide it – but had eventually come to accept it, as it soon became obvious she was "Altair's woman" (she hadn't been too happy about that). Altair had tried to discover who it was that ordered the men following them after they'd left Acre, but it seemed someone had simply been suspicious of the couple leaving after dark, and it was soon forgotten under other things.

Thus, it was an uneventful day as Altair and Malik strode together through the fortress, towards Altair's now-office, once Al Mualim's.

"She punched him in the nose, Altair, and it's a miracle she didn't break it." Malik was saying, "Those woman's damned hormones are more unpredictable than a drunken mule."

Altair chuckled, "I doubt it's because of her hormones. She probably would have punched him even had she not been pregnant. She probably would have broken his nose had she not been."

"Really, brother, your taste in women…" Malik ground out, as they turned the corner, "Ah, speak of the devil."

Maria stood, browsing casually through one of Altair's books, a hand on her ever-expanding belly. Altair repressed a sigh – she was so beautiful.

"Maria!" Altair called, and she looked up, her expression softening at the sight of him. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to defend my case," She said, straightening, "Since I imagine no one else will." Her eyes flicked to Malik.

"Well then, I'll leave you to it." Malik replied, turning on his heel and practically running out of the room.

"Hmph. Coward." Maria snorted. She looked to Altair, who hadn't said anything. "What is it?"

"I don't believe I've ever seen you with your hair down." He commented, "It's lovely."

"Well, I would always wear it up so it wouldn't get in the way in a fight. Obviously that's unnecessary, now." She snapped, blushing faintly. "Anyways, that apprentice of yours was saying-"

"I know what he was saying." Altair said absently, running his fingers through her thick curls, "He would have been punished, anyways." He wrapped a hand around her waist, pushing her gently against the desk, burying his head in the crook of her neck,"Don't concern yourself with it."

"What do you think you're doing, you damn assassin?" She demanded. He merely smirked against the skin of her neck, gently nipping. "Stop it!"

"That's strange for you to say. You're the one who's been so amorous, recently."

"That's because of the damned hormones, you bloody assassin!" She demanded, though she did not resist as he pulled her closer.

"Are you sure it's not just because I'm always within arm's reach, now?" He chuckled.

"Don't flatter yourself! I-"

"Altair!"

Sputtering, she practically flung him away from her, as the novice burst into the room, entirely unaware of the scene he'd intruded upon.

"What is it?" Altair said blithely, eying Maria as she nervously tidied her hair.

"There's been a murder!" The novice cried breathlessly.

"What?" He had Altair's attention now, "Where? When?"

"One of the guards, out on patrol on the northern wall. Malik is there now, but he insists you come too!"

"Yes, of course." Altair said, frowning. "Go tell Malik I'll be right there."

The novice nodding, before turning and running out of the room, intent upon his errand.

Altair, still frowning, turned to Maria. "If you'll excuse me." He brushed his lips against her cheek, "We'll have to leave that for later."

"Fool assassin. Of course, off with you." She sighed, pushing him away. He smiled, but it faded quickly as he headed towards the scene. A murder in Masyaf… such a thing was practically unheard of, at least among the assassins.

Of course, he could not speak for the people of the town, but it was unthinkable that one had managed to sneak up on an assassin, much less one on guard. And an assassin murdering another… that was just impossible. They were brother's of the order, following the same cause, there was no one they could murder one another without a just reason – and as the de-facto leader, such a mark would have been decided by him.

"Altair." Malik called the other assassin over. "Sorry to interrupt whatever you were doing."

Altair raised an eyebrow, "How does it look?" He said, leaning over the corpse as it lay face-down in the grass, a dagger in its back.

"Not good. The body's cold, he's been dead for hours. Whoever did this is long gone. Not only that, but," Malik paused, lowering his voice, "The blade…"

"The blade?" Altair repeated.

"It's… a Templar blade."

Altair took a breath, sharply. A Templar, in Masyaf. This was inordinately bad.


	6. Chapter 5

Mmm, plot. It is most delicious.

Expect slightly less frequency in updates - though they've been really high, so no great amount of worry there - since I wicked need to study for finals. I need to learn Italian by Wednesday, and somehow retain a proficiency in Economics while doing it. D:

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Chapter 5  
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Three weeks.

Three murders.

All with a Templar knife in their back.

Altair gritted his teeth, looking over the notes from the various instances. They were getting closer to catching the culprit, he knew that much – the last time, they'd been only minutes behind him. But he could not figure out _why_.

There were no particularly strong ties between the three murders, and their patrol routes weren't such that it would be helpful for mounting an assault. Not only that, but the time between the murders meant there was more than enough time for them to strengthen their defenses for every man lost. Were they simply trying to lessen the assassin's numbers?

"Still looking over those notes?" Malik called from the doorway.

"Yes… Nothing seems to tie them together; I cannot imagine why the Templar's would do such a thing." Altair sighed.

"Indeed… this seems more needlessly complicated than usual, even for the Templars." Malik replied with a grin, "Come on now, you and I have patrol duty, remember."

"I do." Altair said, strapping on his short sword as he joined the other.

They walked in silence for a time, towards their assigned place on the southern wall, before Malik finally broke the silence, "Altair, have you thought… this might be because of Maria?"

"The possibility occurred to me." Altair replied, "But the same problem arises as with all the others: why would they choose this way to go about it? It doesn't make any _sense_."

"Neither did their simply _following_ you out of Acre. The location of Masyaf is no secret." Malik replied, shortly.

Altair sighed. He knew Malik didn't approve of his relationship with Maria, but didn't he see he had to protect her? She was carrying his child, after all. And…

Altair shook his head. Now was not the time to be thinking about his feelings for Maria. He needed a clear head to keep a proper watch.

It had been years since Altair had been put on watch, and the hours passed in a monotonous haze.

"Feels like you're a novice again, eh Brother? Or a third time, I suppose, for you." Malik quipped with a grin.

Altair simply glared at the other, gulping down water from his canteen. He should've thought further ahead and given himself the evening watch, rather than midday…

A whistling, so familiar to the assassins, echoed through the air, and only instinct saved Malik as he dove to the side to avoid a fatal blow from the knife, aimed for his throat.

"Shit!" He cursed, falling to the ground, a dagger imbedded in his right shoulder and with no left arm to catch him as he fell.

"Malik!" Altair exclaimed, whipping around for a sign of the attacker – there!

"Go, Altair!" Malik snarled, "I'll be fine. I'll be damned if I lose my other arm!"

"You'd better not. Then you'd be totally useless." Altair said with a grin. He could hear the other assassin's on watch already on their way; he knew Malik would be fine. The important thing now was catching this murderer.

In a blur, Altair was after the murderer, leaping lightly from rooftop to rooftop, but he always managed to stay just out of sight. However, he was heading deeper into the town – effectively giving Altair the home advantage.

Seeing the murderer duck left, Altair let loose one of his own throwing knives, trying to wound the attacker – he wanted him alive, after all. The culprit spun right, and the dagger bounced harmlessly off the wall.

Altair smirked – he'd pulled his throw to the left for a reason.

The murdered slid to a stop, barely avoiding falling to his death as he reached the edge of the buildings.

Altair drew his sword, slowly making his way forward.

"That's as far as you go, murderer. Surrender yourself and your death with be quick." He growled.

The murderer turned.

Altair sucked in a breath. "You're-!"

----

Maria sat in Altair's office, like she seemed to be doing more and more often these days. It wasn't that she wanted to see him – he just happened to have the best books in here. And she was bored out of her skull.

She idly flipped a page in his journal – it just happened to be the most interesting of the lot, that's all – and smiled as a passage caught her eye.

"_Some day I will have a child. Such is the way of our Order. And I will not make the same mistake. Nor any who call themselves an Assassin. We shall be allowed to love our children – and, in turn, to be loved."_

She rubbed her belly thoughtfully – her pregnancy was finally starting to show in earnest, though not enough that it impeded her life overmuch – and couldn't help thinking that the assassin would make a wonderful father. Not that she'd ever tell him that.

A door slammed, and she heard his voice rise in anger. That was strange – she didn't think she'd ever heard him raise his voice. Had there been another murder?

The door to his office was flung open, and he stormed in, slamming the door behind him.

"Altair, what's wrong?" She asked, brow furrowed.

"How dare you ask me that." He ground out, "How could you do this, Maria? After everything – ah, damnit." He snarled, and started pacing, something he rarely did. Maria simply stared at him in open bafflement.

"What are you talking about, Altair?" She demanded.

"I suppose you have more loyalty to your husband than I originally thought." He spat out, glaring at her, his eyes cold.

"What the devil are you talking about?! You know I hate that damned-"

"That's enough, Maria. I know." He paused, taking a deep breath. "I know you're the murderer."


	7. Chapter 6

I realize what the general implications of the Templar Ninja (as I call it) back in _Bloodlines_ was, but they never really _explained_ it, they just implied stuff and never really touched on it after the fact - at least from what I saw, and I'm pretty sure I didn't miss anything.

So I'm going to do what I like with it.

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Chapter 6  
-------------

"I know you're the murderer." Altair said softly.

Maria simply stood, slack-jawed.

"What?" She finally managed to croak out.

"Don't act all innocent, Maria." He ground out, "Did you think I wouldn't recognize your little Templar outfit?"

"You're acting crazy, Altair." Maria snapped, "What on Earth makes you think I'm the killer?"

"I saw you back on Cyprus, remember?!" He snarled, "When you killed my target as they were about to talk. Or didn't you think I'd remember?"

"What are you talking about?! I did no such thing!" She cried, taking a step back to put the desk between them. She'd never seen him so livid.

"Then where's your ring?" He demanded.

"What? What ring?! What does that have to do with it?"

"This one!" He said, slamming an extravagant ring on the desk, "You lost it on Cyprus, remember?!"

"That's…" She gasped.

"Your ring." He repeated.

"That's not my ring, you bloody assassin!" She snapped, "Its Stephen's! They're part of his family's wedding ring set!"

He stared at her appraisingly for a moment, before he spoke. "Ignoring the fact that I _saw this ring_ on your finger in Cyprus, and picked it up when chasing that Templar… tell me, where is _your_ half of the set, then?"

"It's…" She hesitated, her eyes widening as she remembered. "It's…"

"Well?"

"It's back in Acre." She said, finally, "It's probably already been reclaimed by Stephen, since he was there when I left…"

"So explain to me why you would bring this ring, a _wedding ring _no less, belonging to a man you hate, not only to the Holy Land, but to Cyprus." Altair said softly.

"…It's an heirloom." She sighed, "I thought I could sell it if I ever needed money; it's worth a small fortune, and it would spite the bastard. I brought it to Cyprus because you dragged me there just as I was about to leave, and I was wearing it for safekeeping." She risked a glance at him.

"Quite the story." He sneered, "You know what I believe is more likely? You never held any animosity for your husband. You _were_ the Templar on Cyprus. And you tricked me in an attempt to infiltrate the Brotherhood. And I almost let you succeed."

He gave a bitter smile, "And there's every likelihood that child you're carrying isn't even mine."

"How….how dare you!" She sputtered, "These accusations are –"

"Enough." The assassin sighed, waving his hand dismissively, "We'll decide what to do with you after your baby's born. I'm not going to condemn him because of his father."

"_You're_ his father!" She snarled, "I'm telling you, there's no one else it _could_ be, because I haven't-"

"Until then," Altair interrupted, "You'll be placed under guard."

"…You really won't listen to me, will you?" She said, her shoulders sagging.

"Don't worry." He continued softly, "We won't treat you badly."

She barked a laugh, "I would say wrongful imprisonment qualifies as 'bad treatment.'"

Altair merely looked on mournfully as the templar was led out of the room.

------

Damn.

Damn, damn, DAMN.

She couldn't believe this was happening.

Everything was crumbling around her.

She sagged on the bed, her head in her hands. To think that Altair would accuse her of that…

But could she really blame him? They'd been enemies for so long…

But no! He was supposed to love her, so shouldn't he take her word?!

She rose, pacing the small room – to comfortable to be called a cell, with a proper bed and a window, but too bare to be called a proper bedroom – the important thing right now was proving her innocence. Then maybe…

She shook her head. What did she care if that bastard assassin took her back?!

But by God, he'd look so hurt…she didn't want to see that look on his face.

She gritted her teeth. Besides that, what the Devil had Stephen been doing on Cyprus?! And in a Templar uniform, no less?! He was no Templar!

Was he?

No, there was no way. She would have known.

"Even if he is," She muttered, "Why is he doing this…?"

"Didn't I tell you, my dear? I want your estate." He called, laughter in his tone.

"Stephen?!" She exclaimed, staring in open amazement, "How are you- This is the top of a tower!"

He chuckled from his place outside the window, "Maria, if I can give your precious assassin decent competition, don't you think I could manage scaling a simple tower?"

She scowled, "Why are you doing this, Stephen?"

"Really, I thought you were smarter than this, Maria." He sighed, "_For your estate_."

"I realize that!" She snarled, "But _that_ and _this_ are entirely different things! The Templar's would never support you in such a self-serving endeavor!"

"Self-serving? No, no, Maria." He sighed, "This is _for_ the Templars. You see, we lost a lot of support with that debacle at Arsuf with King Richard. And, well, it takes money to run a campaign against the world.

But you had to go and defect to the assassins, and as long as you don't claim your inheritance – and you and I both know it is an impressive one - it sits in Government hands."

"So what are you going to do now?" She growled.

"We wait for you to give birth to your bastard assassin child, and then we take you home." He smirked, "After all, there's nothing left for you here."

"You manipulative bastard." She spat.

"This is nothing new, my dear. I am a Templar, after all."

"…And what were you doing on Cyprus? Were you planning this even then?" She narrowed her eyes.

"Was I planning on my wife getting pregnant by an Assassin after running off to India with him for six months? No." He bit out. She blinked - it wasn't often he was short with her, always preferring to hide behind the mask of a smile. But it lasted only a moment, before his smug grin was back on his face. "But it worked out rather nicely, didn't it?"

"And why are you telling me all this? Aren't you concerned I might run to Altair and tell him the truth?" She said, allowing herself a small smirk.

He laughed, uproariously. "And tell him what? 'It wasn't me, it was Stephen'? Do you honestly think he'd believe you? Maria, my dear, you're trapped." He grinned, "I only came here to tell you to be ready to leave once your child is born. You're coming to claim your estate then, whether you like it or not."

"And what about the child?" She breathed.

"Let's just say the only reason I don't kill it now is because it might kill you." He said shortly.

"You wouldn't dare." She growled.

"I'll see you in a few months, Maria." He smirked, before disappearing.

She waited a few moments, making sure he was actually gone, before she sagged on the bed again, biting a nail. He was right – she was trapped rather neatly.

Damn.


	8. Chapter 7

Apologies on the mild lateness - I have to finals tomorrow (today?), neither of which I'm feeling very prepared for.

On a lighter note, I'm thinking of making a series of drabbles on Altair and Maria during pregnancy and parenthood. But it could be the stress that makes me find the ideas so hilarious. But keep your eye of for it nonetheless!

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Chapter 7  
-------------

"So it seems her labor isn't going too smoothly." Malik prompted.

Altair merely grunted, and continued scratching away at the paper in front of him.

"I'm sure she'd appreciate it if you were there."

No response.

"What if it turns out you were wrong, Altair? Then you'll have missed the birth of your first son, and-"

The quill bit snapped, but the assassin said nothing, merely taking a new one from the desk drawer.

"Do you really think she did it, Altair? I'm not exactly fond of her, but…"

"We've been over this, Malik." He snapped, his quill scratching the paper more harshly than necessary.

"I'm just saying, she was _pregnant_-"

"Not enough that it couldn't have been hidden." Altair paused in his paperwork, glancing at his companion, who looked unconvinced. "My first loyalty is to the Brotherhood, Malik. I cannot afford to be lenient to its enemies."

Malik sighed, rubbing his temples to ease the growing ache. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe you were so worried about being too soft on her, that you're being too harsh? We don't even why she would have killed those men."

"Doubtless to seed worry and discontent amongst the Brotherhood." Altair bit out.

"Oh please." Malik replied dryly, "If you'd actually bothered to _see_ her recently, you'd see how _listless_ she's become."

"Only because she was caught!" Altair snarled, slamming his fist on the table.

Malik stared at him a moment, looking unconvinced, before he said, carefully, "Will you at least go and see her when the baby is born? It can't last much longer."

"Only to see if the child is mine." Altair said shortly, running a hand through his hair.

"Sir, sir!" Cried one of the novices, sliding to a halt and fighting to catch his breath, "The baby, sir…"

"What is it? What's wrong?" Altair demanded, rising.

"It's crowning, sir! The midwife sent me to fetch you, come quick!"

Altair wasted no time, brushing past the novice and leaping over the railing. Malik shook his head and followed, muttering to himself.

They neared the room, following the sound of Maria's swearing – "It's impressive, really, even considering she was a knight." Malik commented – and the midwife's encouragement. Until, finally, the thin wail of a child burst out.

"Congratulations, brother." Malik said softly, patting Altair's shoulder somewhat awkwardly.

"We…" Altair began, before clearing his throat, "We still don't know if…"

"Bah, let it go for now. Go in and see her." Malik scoffed, giving the other a light push.

Altair glared at him, but did as he was told, hesitantly opening the door – the birthing chamber was no place for a man, after all – and peeking in.

"Ah, Altair!" Cried the midwife, an ancient old thing, catching sight of him, "Come in, come in…" She grasped his hand and tugged, "It's a boy, Altair, congratulations! You're a proud father now, so stand up straight!" She said, slapping him on the back.

"Are you sure it's mine?" Altair said softly, leaning close to the ancient woman.

"Stupid boy!" She cried, boxing his ears, "Don't you think I'd be able to tell if he wasn't? I brought you into this world, same as I did him. You were just as difficult, you know." She chortled, her eyes twinkling. "Now," She clucked, "I'll leave you three alone, hmm? Call me if you have any difficulties, my dear." She said to Maria, before shuffling her way out of the room.

Altair watched her go, rubbing his ear ruefully. She heard him yell something at Malik, followed by Malik crying out sharply in pain.

"Altair?" He heard Maria say softly. He took a deep breath, and turned to face her.

She laid on the bed, obviously exhausted, her dark curls sweaty and clinging to her face. A small bundle rested in her arms, wrapped in clean linen. It wriggled, and she turned her attention to it, cooing softly.

Altair stood, stunned. She was so beautiful… he crept closer, his footsteps practiced and silent.

"Look, Altair." She nearly whispered, moving some of the swath so the assassin could have a better look.

There lay his son, perfect. Large dark eyes, almost too large for his tiny face, blinked at him, while tiny hands fisted sporadically. A feather soft mop of dark hair dusted his head, and he twisted his face, as though he was considering whether or not to cry.

"Believe me now?" Maria said with a smirk, "He's your spitting image." She paused thoughtfully, and readjusted her hold on the tiny package, "Do you want to hold him?"

Altair looked at her sharply, amazed she would even offer after… he managed a nod, and hesitantly held out his hands.

She stared at him expectantly.

He blinked.

She sighed, "Your hidden blade. Take it off." At his look, she frowned, "I don't want you accidently skewering our son."

"Ah." He breathed, understanding dawning. With practiced movements, he removed the weapon, and gently took the tiny bundle from her.

"Mind his head." She chided gently, adjusting his hold.

There, perfect.

His son, nestled in the crook of his arm, pawing at what remained of his father's ring finger. Maria at his side, muttering disapprovingly about how her son was already acting like an assassin.

Perfect.

-----

Maria lay in the darkened room, exhausted but unwilling to sleep. She was nearly fully recovered from her labor now, and knew that she was running out of time.

Soon, Stephen would be coming, to take her back to England, and turn her into a pawn for the Templars.

And she couldn't very well stay here, only to be ostracized by the man she'd sacrificed everything for.

She kicked off the covers, and padded softly over to where her son lay, sleeping.

Her gaze softened as she gazed upon him – she wouldn't want him to live out either of those lives.

She'd made her decision.

-----

Altair, his hand poised to knock, hesitated.

What could he possibly say to her?

What did he _want_ to say to her? 'Thanks for giving birth to my son, now what would you like to do?'

Damn it.

Gritting his teeth, the assassin knocked softly – no sense waking the baby – and waited. Best just to see her and see how things went.

He waited.

No answer. Was she sleeping?

He knocked again, a little louder this time.

Still nothing.

He frowned. It was unlike her to be so unresponsive – years in the military had made her a light sleeper. Gently, he opened the door, intending merely to check on the pair.

Ah, there she was – watching the baby.

"Maria?" He called softly, taking a step towards her, but froze as his eyes adjusted to the light. "Maria." He repeated, more firmly, "Where did you get those clothes?"

The Templar turned, chain mail clanking softly, "Maria isn't here, Assassin. She's probably halfway to England by now."

"You're-" Altair breathed.

"Stephen. How do you do. I believe you've heard of me?" He replied with a smirk, removing his helm and shaking out his golden locks, "Truthfully, though, we _have_ met before. You just didn't know it, though that was the way I wanted it…"

Altair said nothing, merely flexed his hand. He had nothing but his hidden blade on him, while his opponent was fully armed and equipped… granted, they were in the middle of the Assassin fortress, but Altair knew how quick this man could be…

"What's the matter, Assassin? You look a bit pale." His opponent smirked, hanging his hand casually on the hilt of his sword.

"What are you doing here, Templar?" Altair ground out.

"Isn't it obvious? I came to take my wife back." He sighed, "But it appears she's run off ahead of me. She always was a defiant bitch."

He paused thoughtfully, "I'd also been planning on killing your bastard son, just to remind her who owns her, and to make sure it was my line who inherits, but it appears she foresaw that and took him with her." He shrugged. "No matter. I'll kill him once I get back to England. For now I'll just have to settle for killing you. Who knows? Perhaps the news will finally break her."

Altair gritted his teeth, and flexed his hand once more, checking the responsiveness of his blade.

He'd been wrong.

So very, very wrong.


	9. Chapter 8

I'm sorry. I'm half horrible-person, half university-student-who-just-finished-finals.

And half horrible-at-fight-scenes-and-so-I-angsted-a-lot-about-this-one.

Also horrible at math.

-------------  
Chapter 8  
-------------

Altair took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He was angry, he recognized that, and he needed to be calm if he wanted to defeat Stephen. At first glance, he looked just like any other Englishman – tall and lanky – but Altair knew from experience that he was more than simply skilled.

A glance around the room – not that it was necessary, Altair knew this room nearly as well as his own – revealed a single exit, at Altair's back. And even should he manage to get past him the rest of the Brotherhood should realize and stop him, decked out in Templar armor as he was. He didn't want to rely on that, however – the fact that he'd gotten inside was proof enough that he had the skill to get past an entire fortress of assassins at least once, and he could probably do it again.

"Don't look so frantic, assassin." Stephen said smugly, slowly drawing his sword and letting it hang loosely from his hand, "I've no intention of leaving without your head."

Altair said nothing; he'd never been one to chat during a fight. His opponent was better equipped – he would have to make this quick if he wanted to make it out of this even relatively unscathed.

"It would be the perfect gift for Maria, don't you think? Sure, it will have rotted a bit during the journey, but that would really be a good thing. After all," He continued with a smirk, "A woman should never defy her husband, don't you think?"

"You really are scum." Altair snarled. Altair knew he was just riling him up, but this man was everything Altair fought against – and Maria, his spitfire Maria, had actually been _married_ to him? No wonder she'd run off.

And Altair had very nearly pushed her back into his clutches.

He clenched his fist – he wouldn't. Not this time. He would kill this pustule, and catch Maria before she set off for England. That she would, he had no doubt, for if what Stephen said was true and she did have an inheritance waiting for her, that would provide her with power – and therefore, protection.

Altair slipped easily into a fighting stance, his blade no longer hidden, since such a pretense was useless at this point. Stephen, too, tightened his grip on his sword – he had no shield, for which Altair was thankful, but even his light chain mail afforded him a huge advantage.

They waited, sizing each other up for a heartbeat.

Eventually, it was Stephen who made the first move.

A vertical slash – an obvious move. Altair sidestepped it easily, before making a swipe for the Templar's unprotected head. The Templar, too, dodged easily, very nearly overbalancing the assassin, and reversed his slash, forcing Altair to scramble backwards to avoid.

Altair took a deep breath. Their positions were now reversed – Stephen with his back to the door, Altair in the room. If he didn't make this quick, there was still a possibility Stephen might run, despite his insistence to the contrary.

Stephen drew himself up from his crouch, smirking at his opponent as he repositioned his grip on his sword.

"You know," Altair began, "I really can't blame Maria for leaving you. A woman like her couldn't be…" He paused, "_satisfied_ by someone like you."

"Trying to get me riled up, assassin? It won't work." Stephen returned.

"But I think it already has." Altair said with a smirk – he didn't like using this tactic, but he couldn't deny its effectiveness. "Otherwise, you would be on your way back to England, not here to take petty revenge on the man who stole your wife."

"It's not a matter of 'revenge'; it's a matter of making sure a proper Templar line inherits." He said sharply, "That estate could fund the Templars for years to come, and I'll be damned if some assassin bastard takes it."

"Then why are you still here?" Altair drawled.

"You've been a thorn in our side for years, Assassin. Killing you is just a bonus!" With a cry, Stephen charged – another overhead slash. Altair smirked; the man was angry, too much so to think clearly. He dodged to the right, his free hand snapping out and breaking the Templar's nose with the heel of his hand.

Stephen staggered backwards, trying to stem the blood flow. With practiced steps, Altair ran at the Templar, before taking a running leap, hidden blade poised for the kill.

With a grunt, the Templar fell as Altair landed both feet firmly on his chest. The pair fell through the door, the impact jostling the assassin and preventing a perfect kill. As they hit the ground, he made another attempt, but Stephen, though winded, expected it. His fist, stained with his own blood, flew out, catching the assassin with a strong blow to the jaw, knocking him off the Templar's chest.

Altair rolled, regaining his feet almost instantaneously, though no sooner than Stephen.

The two stood, panting, trying to stare each other down.

"Altair!"

A crowd had gathered. Altair recognized Malik's voice, but didn't dare take his eyes off his opponent.

"Stay back, Malik." He said, "I want to deal with him myself."

"A nice sentiment, assassin, but a useless one. After I kill you, this lot will surely slaughter me." Stephen replied, his eyes flicking nervously around the room.

"Well, you know what they say about cornered mice." Altair said dryly.

The Templar laughed harshly, "Should I be insulted you think me a mouse, or pleased you think I might become a lion?"

"You'll become a cadaver, soon enough." He growled.

"Altair!" Malik called again. This time, the assassin flicked his eyes briefly to his brother, and, seeing a sword in his hands, sheathed his hidden blade. "At least have the intelligence to fight him evenly, novice." Malik bit out, tossing the sword to Altair, who caught it easily.

"Thank you for your kind advice, master." He said sarcastically, falling into a sword stance.

Stephen glanced between the two, unsure what to make of their strange banter, before settling his eyes on the opponent in front of him.

This would be the final bout, and they both knew it.

The entire fortress seemed to hold its breath, none willing to break the silence between the two fighters.

Once more, it was Stephen who made the first move, charging on the assassin.

Altair, expecting another vertical slash, dodged to the side, but Stephen was not a man to be fooled twice, instead using the thrust, and adjusted his angle, catching Altair with a glancing blow to the side.

Altair gasped, but did not pause in his assault, spinning behind his opponent – breaking his sword arm on the way for good measure – before landing a solid slash across the man's back.

Stephen gave a strangled cry, falling to the ground. A soft cheer went up from the gathered assassins, but Altair silenced them with a motion.

Stephen gasped in pain, struggling to lift himself with his good hand. "I'll be damned if….some _assassin_…" He reached weakly for his sword.

Altair frowned, tossing his now-stained sword to a nearby novice, before none-too-gently flipping the Templar over with his boot. He gasped again, weaker now.

Grasping the collar of the Englishman's tunic, Altair pulled the main up, unsheathing his hidden blade.

"At least be content knowing Maria will be happier with you gone." He said gruffly.

" Content?" Stephen replied incredulously, "Why would I give a damn about her happiness?" He coughed, "It was an arranged marriage, you damn assassin. And she was a defiant bitch to the end." He smiled weakly, "If it weren't for that damned will of her father, I would have had her killed years ago and married some empty-headed, well-endowed---"

Altair slid his blade easily out from the man's throat.

"Malik," He said, clutching his side as he rose, "A horse. Now."

"Don't be a fool, Altair. You're wounded." The assassin replied, motioning to the growing stain in Altair's robes.

"A horse, Malik. Now." Altair paused, taking a deep breath, "I need to go after her."

Malik stared at Altair for a moment, considering. Finally, sighing, and muttering about suicide missions, he motioned to one of the novices, who scampered off.

"Don't blame me if you get yourself killed, Altair." He muttered, "Come. We'll at least wrap your wound while they ready the horse."


End file.
